


Conversations

by mad_martha



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Drama, F/M, Family Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_martha/pseuds/mad_martha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Conversations between various characters about Mulder and Scully's relationship.  Or lack thereof.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Sorry Son Of A Bitch

**Author's Note:**

> Four loosely-linked stories that were originally posted separately following the episodes Gethsemane, Redux, Redux II, Christmas Carol, Emily, Folie A Deux, Triangle, The End, and Fight The Future. Originally posted sometime in the late 1990s - honestly, I can't remember anymore, it was a long time ago!

"You could have been more polite."

They were the first words his mother had spoken since she got into the car, and Bill Scully jumped.  He shot a quick, sideways glance at her, but she hadn't moved either; she had her arm propped up against the window and was staring out blindly, her chin resting on her hand.  There was nothing to indicate how she was feeling, but he'd assumed she was too upset over Dana's condition to speak.  He'd respected that silence.

"I was polite," he said, at length.

"No, you weren't.  You were downright rude.  I brought you up better than that."

Always the same tone.  Maggie Scully had never needed to raise her voice in anger; if anything, it got quieter.  There was something remarkable about its quality - that she could seemingly speak in the same level tone, and yet impart such a great variation of emotions.  Sometimes it became tight and intense, sometimes mellow, but it was always the same.

But Bill had never mistaken her anger for what it was, and she was angry now.  It gave him a most uncomfortable feeling; he didn't like being at odds with his mother, because he didn't know quite how to deal with it.  He had fought once or twice with his father, back when he was a teenager, but that had been something he knew how to handle - one big blast of noise, and it was over.  With his brother, it had usually ended up out in the back yard until he had the pest subdued; and with his sisters he simply stood firm while their anger washed over him.

But not with his mother.  She alone had the power to make him ill at ease.  Nevertheless, it wasn't in his nature to back down.  He was _right_.

He shifted in his seat infinitesimally.  "What did you expect me to say to him?  "Thanks for all you've done for my sister"?  I'm not wasting my time pretending to that jerk."

He thought she might have glanced at him, but he wasn't sure; his eyes were on the road.

"I expected you to be polite.  You were there to see your sister and hear what the doctors had to say, not fight with her partner."

"I didn't fight with him."

"I'm not stupid, Bill Scully, and I wasn't born yesterday.  When I came out of that room, I knew from the look on his face that you'd said something.  I should have known what you were up to when you left Dana and I; you never could just let it go.  Dana knew too - how do you think that made her feel?"

Bill opened his mouth and shut it again.  Anger sparked, and a strong sense of injustice.  "Mom, if Dana wasn't involved with Fox Mulder, she wouldn't be lying in that hospital bed now!  From the moment she started working with him, he's brought her and our family nothing but grief.  Melissa is _dead_ because of him - "

"Missy is dead because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time," Maggie interrupted sharply.  "And the men who killed her intended to kill Dana - "

"Yeah, thanks to her involvement with this guy," Bill leapt in.  "And what difference does it make, in the end?  She's going to be dead anyway in a matter of days!  All because she _had_ to work with Fox Mulder."

"Dana makes her own choices, Bill.  She's a grown woman; she knew the risks when she went into this.  It's her life and her decision."

"Yeah, I seem to remember her using that argument on Dad when she joined the FBI," he retorted.  "If she'd listened to him then, none of this would have happened.  But no!  She had to go her own way just to spite him, and look what's come of it."

Maggie leaned back against the head-rest wearily.  "None of which is Fox's fault.  She was assigned to work with him.  What kind of a partner would she be, what kind of an agent, if she picked and chose what cases she would investigate because she _might_ get hurt?"

"Oh, come on, Mom!  She didn't have to work with him - she could have transferred away from that nutcase any time in the last four years, and you know it."

"But she didn't," Maggie pointed out curtly.  "Her choice."

"He could have had her transferred!" Bill said angrily.  "He's her department head; he knew what kind of risks he was exposing her to, and if he cared for her half as much as you keep telling me he does, he would have done it.  But the truth is he doesn't care - all he cares about are his Goddamned conspiracies and little green men, and he doesn't give a damn about who gets caught in the crossfire."

"Oh Bill, shut up," Maggie sighed, closing her eyes.  "You don't know the first thing about him."

"I don't need to.  I can tell what kind of a guy he is.  What I can't get over is him visiting Dana in hospital like an old friend, when he was the one who put her there in the first place!  I can't believe he's got the nerve to look her in the face after all he's done to her."

Maggie's eyes opened briefly as she studied her son's face; then they closed again and she turned her head away.  "Has it occurred to you," she said quietly, "that your sister might actually have wanted him there?"

Bill let out a spurt of mirthless laughter.  "You know, that's the worst part of this," he said conversationally.  "It's ... it's degrading to watch Dana, who I was always thought was a sensible woman, behaving like an abused wife who goes crawling back to her husband every time he apologises for beating her.  For Christ's sake, Mom!  How can you stand by and watch this happening?  All he has to do is turn on the charm, turn on the guilt, and she rolls over in front of him."

"I can't talk to you!" Maggie snapped.  "You don't know the first thing about your sister if you can say that!  And you certainly know nothing about Fox Mulder."

"You're right," Bill agreed coolly, "so maybe you can explain it to me.  Maybe you can explain what my smart little sister finds worth bothering about in him, because I sure as hell can't see it."

Maggie's eyes opened again, raking over him briefly.  "Maybe it's because he respects her."

Bill looked at her speechlessly.  "You have got to be kidding me," he managed after a moment.

Something akin to disgust flickered in Maggie's eyes, but it was gone before he noticed it.  "He respects her ability to know her own mind, Bill.  He respects her enough to let her make her own decisions, to know her own limits.  He respects her enough to let her be her own person.  And he respects her intelligence."

He was perceptive enough to catch the tiny note of censure in his mother's voice, and was goaded by it.  "Oh, and I don't?"

"No," she replied flatly.  "That was always your problem, with Dana _and_ Melissa.  You were always so convinced that you knew best what was good for them, that you never listened to what they were saying."

Bill went slightly pale.  "I always respected their intelligence.  I was proud of both of them - "

"You might have been proud of Dana's intelligence, Bill, but you never trusted her to use it.  You've never respected her judgement.  Why do you think she wouldn't tell you about the cancer?  Because she knew a scene like today's would happen."  Maggie sighed, and tried to get more comfortable in her seat.  "Fox respects her.  And despite what you think, he genuinely cares about her." 

A sudden sharp note of anger entered her voice.  "My God, Bill, I've been watching this going on for four years - do you honestly think I could have just stood by and said nothing if I thought he didn't care what happened to her?  I got to know him when she went missing, and I watched it nearly destroy him.  But he never gave up hope, Bill, even when I did, and he never stopped looking for her.  So much for the man you say doesn't care."

Silence.  Maggie shut her eyes again, and hoped that was the end of the matter.

But Bill still had something on his mind.  "Anyone would think he was her lover, not her work partner, the way she follows him around and defends his crackpot behaviour," he said eventually.

Maggie's hands, lying loosely in her lap, clenched into fists for a moment.  "Is that the point of this conversation after all?" she enquired coolly.

He twitched defensively.  "Well, is he?" he demanded.

"What difference does it make if he is?"

"It might explain some of her behaviour," he ground out, "nauseous as the idea makes me feel."

"I think it's none of your damned business."

"That's not an answer to my question."

"Well if you want a better one, you'll have to ask Dana," Maggie said.

"You must have some idea," Bill persisted.

She gritted her teeth for a moment.  "No, I don't think they're involved," she said finally, "but I think that's only because of circumstances and lack of opportunity."

Bill slowed down and drew the car to a halt outside his mother's house.  "Thank Christ for that," he muttered.  "I don't think I could stomach that sorry son of a bitch as a brother-in-law."

Maggie fumbled her seatbelt undone and opened her door.  Then she paused and looked back at him, her expression contemptuous. 

"We see ourselves reflected in others, Bill," she stated grimly, and got out of the car, slamming the door behind her.

 

Finis


	2. Conversation With Mrs Scully

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder has a conversation with Mrs. Scully - but it's not quite what you think.

The sofa wasn't really the best place for him to sleep, as it wasn't nearly long enough - well, not many sofas were - but Mulder wasn't about to complain.  For one thing, he knew that this was a small house with only one guest room, and Scully and her mother were sleeping in there.  For another, he was damned lucky Bill Scully allowed him inside the house at all, and knew it. 

_Well, how would you treat a man who treated_ your _sister the way you treat Scully?_

Actually, it was a pretty comfortable sofa, all things considered; not as comfortable as his own, of course, but his back had got used to the lumps in that one.  And Tara Scully had wordlessly provided him with an armful of blankets and a pillow, which was more than he'd expected. 

She seemed like a nice woman, Mulder mused, fighting off full consciousness for a few precious minutes longer.  Not that it was easy to tell; he couldn't recall her actually saying anything to him so far.  Bill had managed to do most of the talking for the entire family,  including his mother, although Mrs. Scully was seemingly her usual tolerant self.  The Scully family was tense though, and oddly enough Mulder felt he wasn't actually the cause this once.  Scully herself seemed to be the problem, although undoubtedly his presence wasn't helping matters much.

Well, he vowed, if it took some of the heat off Scully he would be quite happy to take whatever Bill threw at him.

Hard upon that resolution came the sound of a thin wail from somewhere upstairs; the newest addition to the household was making his desire for sustenance felt.  Mulder unwound his left arm from the blankets and peered at his watch - yep, 6.00 am.  He heard soft footsteps coming down the stairs, then pattering across to the kitchen, and decided he might as well get up.  He hadn't slept at all well - who would after _that_ funeral? - and it seemed pointless to fight the inevitable anymore.

Mulder threw on his jeans and shirt, and walked hesitantly into the kitchen.  Tara Scully was there, fumbling with the controls of the microwave one-handedly while Matthew fretted in the crook of her other arm.  Her fair hair was sticking out in every direction and she looked exhausted, but she managed a sort of hesitant half-smile when she saw her unwanted guest.  Mulder managed a similar expression back, and gestured towards the coffee-maker.

"Can I - ?  Would you like a cup?"

"Please, go ahead."  The microwave finally responded to her coaxing, and Tara pulled up a chair and sat down while she waited for it to finish heating a bottle of formula. 

Mulder busied himself with the coffee-maker, wondering nervously if he should be attempting to make conversation.  A sneaked glance at Tara told him to let it lie, at least for now; she was almost nodding off in any case.  It would be better to let her initiate any kind of dialogue, especially given how her husband felt about him.

The microwave pinged and she jerked awake.  The bottle was rescued and its contents carefully tested for temperature, before the teat forestalled the promising beginnings of a very loud yell from the baby.  Amazing what instincts - and lungs - kids had at that age, Mulder mused.  He found a couple of clean mugs and poured the coffee, then slid one over the wooden table to Tara, who mumbled thanks.  Mulder took a seat at the other end gingerly, and there was a brief silence, interrupted only by Matthew's frantic slurps.

Tara took a sip of the coffee - and let out a sudden, unexpected snuffle of reluctant laughter.  Mulder glanced up at her, surprised, and she gestured to the mug.  "I can tell you're used to making coffee for Dana," she explained.

Mulder looked down at his own mug, bemused, then smiled.  It was true; he had, without particularly thinking about it, made Scully's favourite dark mocha and then loaded it with cream.  "Sorry, I didn't really think.  This is how she drinks it at the office."

Tara smiled.  "Bill drinks it the same way, although Maggie goes a little lighter on the cream.  It must be a family thing.  Do you always end up drinking it the way she prefers?"

Mulder opened his mouth to deny it - then reconsidered, realising that in fact he _did_ , at least when she was in the office.  On his own, it was pretty much pot luck - Mulder didn't have a refined taste for coffee, so his own brews could be fairly diabolical - but he had learned, on pain of Scully's displeasure, to make it the 'right' way for her. 

Odd.  He hadn't realised that before.  In fact, it was a habit he'd only got into after she was returned from her abduction; as if making her coffee the way she liked it would, in some small way, show the appreciation he found it so difficult to express otherwise.

His expression must have been obvious, because Tara's smile grew.  "Let me guess - she let you know, without actually telling you, that anything other than this would be unacceptable."

"Something like that," Mulder admitted.  "How did you know?"

"Dana is a very forceful person," Tara replied.  "They all are, Bill, Charles and - and Melissa.  They're very strong."  She raised her head and her eyes met Mulder's.  "They have very strong opinions, and their own ideas of what's right and wrong."

It took Mulder a second to realise that she was trying to convey something to him which she was reluctant to put into words.  "It's a virtue," he said slowly.  "At least, I count it a virtue in Scully - Dana."

Tara nodded.  Matthew had finished his bottle in no time at all, so she transferred him to her shoulder, rubbing his back absently.  "Sometimes - well, they get an idea in their heads and they won't back down, even if they realise they're wrong.  Do you know what I mean?"

"I think so."  Mulder swallowed his coffee and carefully put the mug on the table beside his elbow.  "Dana - usually isn't like that."

"No."

"Look," Mulder said, deciding to stop beating about the bush.  "I understand where Bill's coming from, really I do.  It must be pretty difficult for him to have me here, considering how he feels about me - I wouldn't like it if the positions were reversed.  But Dana wanted me here, and under the circumstances - "

"Mr. Mulder, it's not that you're unwelcome - "

"I'll be out of your house this morning," he interrupted gently.  "I've got to get back to D.C. anyway.  I don't want to make things more uncomfortable for you than they have to be, Mrs. Scully."

"Tara," she corrected quickly.

Mulder wasn't sure about that, so he remained silent.  There was another pause, this one a little less uncomfortable, but they were both unsure what to say next.

"Bill doesn't understand Dana," Tara said abruptly, having made her mind up to say it and be damned.  "He didn't understand Missy - Melissa - either.  He was always the eldest, so they were always little girls to him.  Even now he thinks he has to try and protect Dana - I don't think he even knows what from.  You're an easy target, Mr. Mulder, that's all.  The obvious target, since he can't express how he feels to the people who gave Dana her cancer."

"I'd feel the same way if it were my sister," Mulder assured her, rather helplessly.  "And it's Mulder - just Mulder."

She gave him a quick smile. "Dana said we shouldn't use your first name - I don't even know what it is."

"It's irrelevant," Mulder deadpanned, and she smiled.  "For what it's worth," he continued more seriously, "Bill can't possibly feel more helpless about Dana's cancer than I do.  Quite honestly, I don't know which was worse, the cancer or her ... disappearance."  He shook his head slightly.  "The cancer, probably, because at least when she was taken away ...."  He stopped and looked away from her, blinking slightly.  _Tired ... my eyes are tired, that's all it is._

"When she was taken away, there was at least the hope of finding her," Tara said softly.

"Yeah."  He took a hasty gulp of his coffee.

"You must be very attached to her," she commented.

He gave her a quick, rakish grin.  "Best partner I ever had," he replied flippantly.

Tara chose not to respond to this, but her eyes were grave and after a moment Mulder had to look away.  Better not to get into the topic of how he felt about Dana Scully when it was Bill Scully's wife he was talking to.

"It's good that Dana feels she can rely on you," Tara continued.  "I mean, she and Bill are close, but ...."

"We're partners," Mulder reiterated quietly, hoping she would take the hint.  This was dangerous territory.

"All the same," she persisted.  "Dana ... well, we all worry about her.  Especially Maggie, although she doesn't say much.  But Dana has always been so alone, so determined to be strong, like she doesn't need other people.  At least she has you to lean on."  She paused, and added quietly, "And to hell with what Bill thinks.  Sometimes he's too dumb to see what's in front of his nose."

"Maybe there's nothing in front of his nose to see," Mulder suggested, hoping his tone was one of gentle warning.

"Isn't there?"  Tara's grey eyes fixed on him, and he discovered with some dismay that she was apparently as quick and observant as her mother-in-law.  There was a whole wealth of meaning in that one long, steady look she gave him.

"If there is," he replied after a moment, "believe me, it's better that he doesn't see it.  And it's better still that Scully - Dana - shouldn't see it."

Tara's eyes widened in surprise.  "But - "

"We're friends," he interrupted, a little more sharply than he'd intended.  "Just ... friends.  That's how it should be.  How it _must_ be."

"Then why did you come out here?" she demanded.

Mulder sighed in frustration and rubbed his face.  "To help her out, as a friend.  And ... to try and give her something back.  She wouldn't have been in this situation if it wasn't for me.  It was the least I could do, under the circumstances.  And it still wasn't enough!" he added bitterly, remembering the empty coffin in the church.

Tara's face reflected shock and scepticism.  "I don't see how you could have been responsible for this."

A mirthless smile stretched his lips.  "It's an unbelievably long story.  Actually, it's an _unbelievable_ long story.  And if Dana hasn't told you, then it's not my place to."

She accepted this without argument, rather to his surprise; but her mind was already travelling down slightly different avenues.  "I don't understand how Dana could have had a that little girl without knowing, either," she admitted, and glanced down at her own healthy son rather sadly.  "Unless ... she had the baby adopted?"

She looked at Mulder questioningly, but he shook his head.  "I'm sorry, Mrs. Scully, but I can't explain that to you either.  Only that it wasn't an adoption on Scully's part."

"Then Emily wasn't yours."

He looked up, shocked, and she gave him a faint embarrassed smile.  "Bill thought ....  But I didn't think it was likely, and neither did Maggie."

"No," Mulder said firmly.

Tara nodded, as if confirming something in her own mind.  "You realise that's Bill's greatest fear, don't you?" she continued, striving for a little humour now.  "It's not just that Dana associates with you - he's afraid she's involved with you as well, when a nice stable lawyer would be so much more suitable."

Mulder stared at her for a second, then gave a sudden dry chuckle.  "Yeah, I can imagine how I'd be any protective elder brother's nightmare."  He finished the final dregs of his coffee, and stood up slowly, stretching, before going to the sink to rinse his mug out.

"Bill's wrong about you," Tara said suddenly.

Mulder upturned the mug on the drainer, and glanced at her in surprise, but Tara was looking down at her son, who was sinking into a stuporous infant sleep.  Shrugging slightly, he turned to leave the kitchen.

"Mr. Mulder!"

He turned back to discover that she was holding her free hand out to him.  He took it reluctantly.

Tara fixed her eyes on him earnestly.  "Maggie's right - and it's not your fault," she told him, and gave his hand a firm squeeze which conveyed - she hoped - far more than words could.  Then she released him.

Mulder gave her an uncertain smile, and turned away again, walking back into the living room to retrieve the rest of his clothes.

"And you're so wrong about how you deal with Dana," Tara sighed, watching him go.

 

 

 

Finis

 


	3. Agent To Agent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two agents have a frank discussion

"Good afternoon, Agent Scully."

Scully paused, her chicken mayonnaise-stuffed pita bread suspended halfway to her mouth.  "Oh ... good afternoon, Sir."  She looked up at Skinner uncertainly, squinting against the bright midday sunlight.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked.

She hesitated for perhaps half a second, then inclined her head.  "Of course not."

Skinner slid into the seat opposite her and set down his bottle of sparkling water and sandwiches.  Like her, he had a bag from Nelson's Deli across the street, although his appeared to contain prawn salad in a wholegrain roll.  There was silence for several minutes while he busied himself unwrapping the roll and opening the bottle, and Scully took the opportunity to finish the interrupted bite she had been taking of her lunch.

Not for one minute did she believe Skinner was here by accident, though, and she wondered what horrible situation warranted him using the softly-softly approach of a shared lunch.

"How's Agent Mulder getting on with the ISU this week?" he asked after a moment, and took a bite of his roll.  Very casual.

"I believe he's all right," Scully said cautiously.  In fact, she knew that her partner was thoroughly pissed off with the temporary assignment, and consequently making a nuisance of himself to the other profilers on the team.  He hadn't said as much when she'd talked to him the night before, but she knew.  The very fact that he sounded chipper was suspicious.

"You don't have to be diplomatic, Scully."

She looked up, and saw an unfamiliar expression on the Assistant Director's face; a look of benevolent amusement.  "I wasn't, Sir.  He's fine, as far as I can tell, although I think he's bored."

"One of the reasons Mulder's never drawn this assignment before is because he has a very low boredom threshold.  And although he has patience with people who are slower and less brilliant than him, he doesn't have a much of a gift for teaching them."  Skinner paused to take another bite of his lunch.  "All the same, profiling is a very particular art, and there's no denying that he's the best.  Even Mulder's detractors in the Bureau admit that.  And it's an art form we badly need imparting to the upcoming agents at Quantico, especially since we ... lost ... Agent Patterson."

"It's an art form that could very easily drive Mulder over the edge," Scully replied, and there was a very tiny note of warning in her voice that only someone who knew her would recognise.

"I wasn't suggesting that Mulder could be spirited back into full-time or even part-time work with the ISU, Scully," he commented mildly.

"There are other senior agents at the Bureau who would like him to be, though."

"That's always been the case.  Right from Mulder leaving the ISU and returning to the VCS, Patterson was always manoeuvring for his re-assignment, and his replacement feels the same way."  Skinner gave Scully a thoughtful look.  "That's partly why I authorised this current assignment for Mulder.  One of the biggest arguments for his return has been what he could teach his fellow agents."

Scully's brow rose.  "What are you hoping to achieve, Sir?"

"I'm hoping he'll make a big enough pain in the ass of himself that they'll be pushing him out of the door on Friday," Skinner said blandly.

Scully smiled slightly, and took a sip of her apple juice.  "And what if they don't feel that way?"

The Assistant Director hesitated for a moment, toying with a paper napkin.  "Then I'm hoping Mulder might consider taking an assignment like this occasionally, to keep the guys at Quantico quiet."

Scully's smile slipped.  "I don't think he'll see it quite like that," she said quietly.

"No," Skinner agreed.  He met her eyes squarely for the first time.  "But I'm hoping you can persuade him."

"Sir – "

"No, Scully, listen a minute.  Two things.  One: I don't think those voices higher up are going to be kept quiet.  For one thing, Mulder is wasted in the work he's doing now.  You both are.  It's valid work and no one but you two could do it – but you're still both wasted.  By agreeing to take teaching seminars every once in a while, Mulder will at least be keeping some of the more ... reasonable ... wolves off his back.  It won't shut up the ones with ulterior motives for getting him out of the X-Files, but it'll help.  Two: no-one can handle Mulder like you can.  You know him better than anyone else, and he listens to you.  I can't think of anyone else I can say that about.  And if you put it to him, he may just be reasonable for once."

"I think you overestimate my influence over him, Sir."  Scully swallowed the last bite of her pita  and scrunched up the paper bag. 

Skinner paused, idly making damp circles on the table top with his drink bottle.  "You're not a fool, Scully, so why are you talking like one?" he said after a moment, very quietly.  "Or maybe you just think _I'm_ a fool?"

Scully stared at him.  "I don't think anyone would make that mistake, Sir," she managed.

"I hope not.  Because I'm well aware of how … close … you and Mulder are."

Her face froze for a second.  "Meaning?"

"You want me to spell it out?"

Right at that moment, Scully couldn't have said whether she wanted to laugh or throw a fit.  Skinner - _Skinner!_ \- was hinting in the most unsubtle terms that her relationship with Mulder was somehow improper.  She couldn't believe that he of all people was sitting opposite her, suggesting such a thing.  Scully flushed vividly for several excruciating moments, then suddenly felt the blood leave her face. 

She could believe that some of her fellow agents thought she was involved with Mulder.  Their minds were not, by and large, subtle enough or perceptive enough to recognise the truth.  Equally, she could believe that some of Bureau's hierarchy might be misled by their closeness and the effectiveness of their partnership.  But she had always believed Skinner would recognise the true state of affairs.

If Skinner thought they were involved, they were in trouble.  Anyone could bring a case against them before the Bureau's Office of Professional Conduct, and they would be hard put to defend themselves … although equally, any accuser would find it difficult to produce any evidence.  But the suspicion might be enough to finish them both, at least as partners.

Skinner finished his roll, covertly watching her face, and wondered what was going on behind the marble mask she had suddenly donned.  Her reaction hadn't been quite what he had expected.  He glanced at his watch and saw that he still had half an hour before he had to be back in the office.  It would have to do.

"I'll walk back to the office with you," he said blandly, startling Scully out of her trance.

She wasn't stupid enough to mistake the statement for anything other than the command it was.

It took Scully a good five minutes to rediscover her voice and decide what to say, during which time Skinner made no comment whatsoever.

"Sir … I have to tell you that you really are mistaken," she managed eventually.  "My personal relationship with Agent Mulder is purely one of friendship and nothing else.  We have never engaged in any unprofessional behaviour in … in that respect."

"I'm glad you qualified that statement," Skinner observed dryly.

"Sir …!"

"Scully, do you honestly expect me to believe that?  Be careful how you answer."

"There's not a lot I can say, is there?" she retorted bitterly.  "It's not like I can prove a thing one way or the other -  but I did think that you at least would take my word on this.  If for no other reason than that it would put our work on the x-files at risk."

There was a pause, then Skinner said quietly, "If that's the case, then you and Mulder are bigger fools than I thought possible."

Scully was struck dumb, unable to believe she had heard him correctly.

"Scully …."  Skinner hesitated, wondering how to phrase what he was going to say next.  "Where do you see your career going, ultimately?"  Had it been Mulder walking beside him he would have expected a flippant response, but Scully, the more sensible and introspective partner, remained silent.  "Despite what the pair of you may think, your careers aren't exactly dead in the water," he continued after a moment.  "Your reputation is excellent, Scully, and your professional experience and qualifications could still take you wherever you want to go in the Bureau.  And despite his record, if Mulder chose to move out of the x-files, there are a number of divisions where he could retrieve himself and start moving back up the ladder.  The ISU would fit his talents best, but early in his career he worked briefly with the Corporate Fraud Division and SAC Andreas would be happy to have him on the team again."

"You don't really see Mulder as the sometime Assistant Director of Serious Fraud, do you, Sir?" Scully queried, her tone rather dry.

"Not really," Skinner admitted, amused.  "I'm just saying that it's not a total impossibility."

"But in order for either of us to resume a respectable career, we would almost certainly have to be split up … professionally."

The AD hesitated.  "Not necessarily, but that would probably become an issue if you were personally involved."

"That's what this conversation's about," Scully commented.  She looked at Skinner suddenly.  "Why did you bring this topic up, Sir?" she asked directly.

Skinner shrugged.  "You want the truth?"

"That's what Mulder and I are supposed to be looking for."

He shrugged.  "I was curious, Scully.  I'm willing to believe that Mulder can live for the moment without worrying particularly about the future, but it seems out of character for *you*.  When you joined the FBI it was noted on your record that you were strong, intelligent and ambitious – that you could go far and deserved watching. The x-files should have been a brief blip in your career, a six month hiatus at most.  Instead we're five years down the line, and you're still glued to Mulder's side.  There has to be a reason, and I'm not the first person to wonder if it's the obvious one."

"The idea that I might actually have a personal investment in the x-files is obviously not worth considering," she said with dangerous affability.

"On the contrary, I'm well aware of your personal reasons for continuing the work.  All the same, it occurs to me that you, at least, are a practical person.  It must surely have dawned on you long before now that anything you learn in the course of your investigations is probably not going to be worth much when balanced against what you lost in the process."  Skinner dug his hands into his trouser pockets, his expression thoughtful.  "At least *I* can't see that you gain much.  You've been abducted, lost your sister, contracted a nearly fatal strain of cancer, and finally discovered – "

"- That any chance at having children of my own currently lies entirely in the hands of the people Mulder and I are dedicated to expose," Scully finished for him stonily.  "I've seen my daughter die purely because she was an experiment to those people and of no further use to them."

"Yes," he admitted quietly, and with unexpected sadness.  "That too.  Being the person you are, Scully, how on earth can you balance the two?"

She shrugged, her face distant.  "Maybe it's all I have left."

"I don't believe that.  I think there has to be another reason the two of you remained joined at the hip – so to speak – even during a period when you were professionally separated.  And I think there has to be a better reason for you to stay with Mulder, when he offers you an overwhelming number of reasons to leave him."

"And you think that reason's personal."

"I'm fairly sure it's personal for Mulder."  Skinner paused to consider that statement, and added with a certain dry humour, "Although as usual, he spots something good in his existence and immediately sets out to sabotage it by one means or another."

"By not telling me about Agent Fowley, you mean?"  There was a tiny flaw in the mellow tone of Scully's voice as she mentioned the other agent's name, and it made her bite the inside of her cheek with vexation when she heard it.

"I was thinking "by passive indifference", but I suppose you could include her too.  He's certainly stupid enough to let her come between the two of you, whether she's around or not.  The question is – are you stupid enough to let him?"

Well!  Scully drew in a slow breath and looked around herself rather blindly.  That was certainly putting it in blunt terms.  "You seem to have an inordinate interest in my personal life, Sir," she stated, as levelly as she could.

"Not really," Skinner sighed.  He was growing a little impatient with their dance around the subject, and they were approaching one of the rear entrances to the Hoover Building now.  Nearly time to pull on his Assistant Director mask again.  "Up until now I liked to think that you and Mulder were ... if not friends of mine, at least comrades.  You've saved my ass on a couple of occasions, and I've done my best to give you two a few breaks.  So when I see the pair of you making what seems like a really disastrous error of judgement, it seems only right to guide you away from it if I can.  Or to point it out to you so that you can at least make an informed decision on whether to change course or not.  I mean, ultimately it's no skin off my butt if the pair of you want to wallow in pointless martyrdom."

They had reached the entrance, and Skinner opened the door for Scully.  But just as she was going to step inside, he caught hold of her arm.

"Look at it this way, Scully," he told her, his voice soft but intense.  "Life's short, whichever way you look at it.  And if Mulder's right and the Consortium's planned Armageddon is just around the corner – where the hell's the point in holding back?"

Scully pulled her arm free of his grip and hurried inside the building, almost running to the elevators and diving through the closing doors of the nearest one. 

"Basement," she said curtly to the male agent who was looking at her inquiringly, his hand poised over the buttons.

At least Mulder wouldn't be down there, and she could process what had just happened in the gloomy peace of their office.  Examine it, dissect it, rationalise and put it away in her mind.

She hoped.

 

 

Finis

 

 


	4. Partner To Partner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully finally talk

After the violence of the explosion and the roaring crash of rubble and masonry, the silence was shocking to the ears.  For several minutes nothing could be heard but the faint sounds of grit sliding and settling.

 

Then Fox Mulder remembered to breathe and went into a paroxysm of coughing.  The basement of the old school building was filled with clouds of suffocating dust, and his single gulping breath had inhaled more than a fair share of it.  For several minutes he was helpless, almost retching with reaction. 

 

Finally, his chest cleared, and with it his head and vision.  He took several smaller, more cautious breaths, and blinked the grit out of his eyes, looking around.  One minute he'd been searching the basement warily, gun in hand, and the next – BOOM!  What the hell had happened?  Scully had been just ....

 

Scully.

 

Instant panic.  She'd been just behind him when the bomb – or whatever it was – had gone off.  Where was she now?  Mulder's eyes searched the gloom, picking over the rubble frantically, but there was no sign of her.

 

"Scully?  Scully, where are you?"  No response.  "SCULLY!"  He dragged himself upright, battered, filthy, and shifting more dust and grit into the air, and looked around again.  Jesus ... he couldn't even tell exactly where he was anymore; the place was so badly wrecked that he could have been thrown from one side of the building to the other and never have known it.  "Scully, dammit, answer me!"

 

Tiny sounds of rubble being shifted a few metres away.  Then a choking cough, and a moan.  Mulder was stumbling over the fallen beams and piles of brick before the sounds had properly registered in his mind.  "Scully – "

 

She was half buried under a heap of debris, her bright hair dulled by the dust.  But she was moving, just a little.  Mulder, half frantic with mingled relief at her being alive and fear of her possible injuries, began to shift the rubble off her as quickly and carefully as he could.  Thank God they had both been wearing kevlar vests; it might have saved her from a chest injury.  She was half on her side, though, and when he'd cleared some of the junk away it was evident that she'd taken some kind of hurt to the exposed area where the vests taped together at the side.

 

Mulder swallowed, brushing dust cautiously away from the area.  There wasn't much blood, but he could see a rough shard of something, possibly a piece of metal, sticking out of the flesh and the wound was oozing sluggishly.  This was not good.  Worse; she was the doctor.  He was going to need her awake and reasonably lucid, because his first aid skills were definitely not equal to this.

 

"Scully?"  He stroked her hair back, brushing his fingers against her cheek.  "Scully, can you hear me?  I need you to wake up."

 

After an interminable pause, her eyes blinked open, and almost at once she was seized with a fit of coughing that was obviously painful.  Mulder supported her as best he could, but with the vest in the way he couldn't even rub her back comfortingly.  When it was over, Scully relaxed slightly, her face lined with exhaustion.  "Mulder?"

 

"I'm here – "

 

"What ... happened?"

 

"I don't know.  I think it might have been a bomb, although it could have been a gas explosion I guess."

 

"Petrov?"

 

Right now, Mulder couldn't give a damn about the perp they'd been looking for.  "If he was down here, he's probably dead.  Frankly, I couldn't care less though.  Scully, you're injured – "

 

She swallowed against the dust.  "My side hurts," she rasped.

 

"You've ... got something stuck in there.  It looks like a piece of metal, but I can't really see it properly.  It's not bleeding much."

 

"Doesn't mean anything."

 

"No,"  Mulder swallowed hard.  "I guess not.  What can I do?"

 

Scully smiled painfully.  "Get me out of here?"

 

He looked up and around, but there was no sign of the stairs they came down originally.  Nor were there any sounds of other people shouting or moving around elsewhere in the building, despite there having been a team of ten agents searching the school.  Mulder didn't want to think what that meant, although there was undoubtedly some kind of rescue operation already being put into effect outside.

 

"I don't know what I can do about that, Scully, but I'll try.  First, let's try to make you a little more comfortable …."  Easier said than done.  Mulder wanted to remove his kevlar vest to prop her head on, but Scully argued for him keeping it on, just in case, so in the end he removed hers, flinching and gritting his teeth at the obvious pain the procedure inflicted on her.  At length, she was laid on her back, as comfortable as he could make her considering that he had nothing to lay her on or cover her with .  "Okay, I'll only be gone a few minutes."

 

Climbing back over the debris left by the explosion made Mulder acutely aware of how lucky he'd been in escaping with just a few cuts and bruises; it looked as if large sections of the floors above had collapsed into the basement and there were very few, if any, avenues of escape.  The route they had used to get in by was now thoroughly blocked off, and with it the larger part of the basement area.  They were stuck until someone dug them out.

 

At least there was no smell of gas, or indications that a fire had broken out anywhere in the building.  He supposed he should be grateful for small mercies.  Now – how to alert any rescuers to their location?

 

When he scrambled back to Scully, she was gingerly investigating the area of her wound with her fingertips, biting her lip against the discomfort.

 

"You shouldn't be doing that," he chided gently, kneeling beside her.

 

"Sorry," she murmured, and left it alone, smiling at him faintly.  "Old habits die hard."

 

"It's okay."  He studied her face, and his concern for her deepened.  She was pale and drawn, and her eyes were shiny with pain.  "Scully, there's no way I can get either of us out of here.  We're going to have to wait for the cavalry."  She nodded, not having expected much else.  "Do you have your cell phone on you?"

 

"I lost it during the blast."

 

"Me too."  Mulder's teeth worried at his bottom lip for a minute.  "I'm going to see if I can find one of them.  If there's the remotest chance that one is still working …."  He left the sentence hanging and went to look in the area where he'd landed after the blast. 

 

There was no sign of it, but he did find his gun.  Great; at least he'd only get called on the carpet for one piece of lost equipment this time.  Making his way back to Scully, though, he saw a familiar-looking shape in the debris and pulled out Scully's phone with an exclamation of relief that was short-lived. 

 

Despite his best efforts, and Scully's suggestions, Mulder was unable to make the instrument do more than crackle and whine at him. 

 

"Leave it on,"  Scully suggested, when he would have switched it off in disgust.  "They might be able to trace the signal."

 

Mulder took one look at the sheen of sweat on her forehead, and did as she said.  It was clear to him that she was having a certain amount of difficulty breathing around the pain in her side, and that pain was getting worse, not better.  Anything they could do to alert people to their whereabouts was better than sitting around doing nothing.  He looked around and, seeing some pipes on one wall of the area they were trapped in, got up and found a chunk of brick.

 

The noise they made when he hammered on them was less than impressive. 

 

"Mulder – "

 

He found a piece of metal girder in the rubble and dragged it out.  It was heavy, but when he swung it at the pipes, it made a slightly more satisfying _clang_.  He tried again, putting more force behind the swing, but really only succeeded in denting his target, and the noise was barely louder.

 

"Mulder!"

 

"What?"  He lowered the length of girder, feeling the shock of the rebound through his arms, and looked across at Scully.

 

"Mulder, the effort you're putting into that isn't worth the result," she told him quietly.  Her eyes were closed and there were lines of pain across her forehead.  "And if you damage those pipes, you could end up flooding this place with gas or worse."

 

"I can't just sit here, Scully – "

 

"Yes, you can.  They know we're here – even if they can't hear us moving, they won't stop digging until they find us."

 

"Or our bodies," he muttered, but he sat down next to her again reluctantly.

 

"I don't intend to die down here," she told him tiredly.

 

"Sorry.  Neither do I, but it's just ...."  His voice trailed off and he swallowed.

 

One blue eye cracked open to observe him in the half light.  "I didn't know you were claustrophobic, Mulder."

 

He opened his mouth to protest – and saw the raised eyebrow.  He sighed.  "I'm not – not really."

 

Scully wasn't buying it.  "Well, I guess that explains why I get to climb around the ventilation shafts in this partnership."

 

"Actually, it's kind of recent," Mulder admitted.

 

"How recent?"

 

"Recent, as in ... Antarctica-recent?"

 

The other blue eye opened and Scully gave him a curious frown.  "Why?"

 

Mulder thought about his terrifying high-speed slalom down an icy ventilation shaft he'd stepped into by accident, and his emergence at the other end into something that closely resembled one of the sets from "Alien".  He hadn't been spooked at the time, but he'd relived that incident as one of his many nightmares ever since.  And for some reason, it had given him a dislike of confined spaces, although calling it "claustrophobia" was a little extreme.

 

Explaining all that to Scully, who had missed most of the really exciting parts of his Antarctica expedition, would be futile though, and he shook his head.  "Never mind.  I'm not going to wig out completely, if that's what you're wondering."

 

"I know you're not."  Scully shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable, and only succeeded in sending hot, numbing pain through her side.  "Oh, God – !"  For a moment her vision misted over.

 

"Scully?"  Mulder was leaning over her, his face registering barely controlled panic.

 

"I'm okay," she whispered, and wondered if it was a as big a lie as she feared.  She had no personal experience of wounds like this, and being unable to see it or examine it properly left her unable to judge just how dangerous an injury it was.  Not that there was much either of them could do, even if it was mortal.

 

"Damn it, we've got to get you out of here!"  Mulder was on his feet again before she could say anything, and heading over the farthest edge of their confined space, peering up through the debris hanging down from the floor above.  "Hello?  Is anyone up there?  WE'RE STUCK DOWN HERE!"

 

Scully closed her eyes.  She had to think of something to distract him – to distract _both_ of them -  from their situation.  Unbidden, her mind drifted back a few months and settled on an uncomfortable conversation she'd had with Skinner just before their reassignment.

 

Damn.  Her eyes drifted open again and fell on her partner, who was once more testing the rubble to see if there was even a remotely viable means of exit.  His face wore the blank, wooden expression that she knew all too well.  A distraction .... 

 

"Mulder ...."

 

He was back, kneeling at her side, in a flash.  "Scully?"

 

"Mulder, you're not going to get us out that way, and you're going to hurt yourself trying."  She looked up at him and saw the poorly concealed fear for her in his eyes.  "Come on, partner, talk to me or something."

 

"Let me take a look at your side again first." 

 

She agreed reluctantly, and watched as he bent over her carefully, squinting at the wound. 

 

"I think it's bleeding again," he said after a moment.  There was a pause, then he straightened up and began unbuckling his kevlar vest.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"Taking my shirt off.  We need to dress that somehow, don't we?"

 

Scully couldn't argue with that, although she did have one objection to put forward.  "Mulder, you can't sit around with no shirt - it's getting cold down here."

 

He paused, giving her a strange look.  He hadn't noticed any change in the temperature.  Then he realised with a sinking feeling that she was going into shock, and knew he should have expected it.  And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.  "It's okay, I'm wearing an undershirt."  He tossed the vest aside, and quickly stripped off his dress shirt.  "You're going to have to tell me what to do here, Scully."

 

Under her instructions, he turned the greater part of his shirt into a thick, square pad.  The sleeves, collar, and front bands with buttons and buttonholes were removed, and he used the sleeves and long buttonhole strip to secure the pad in place around her ribcage.  "Good thing I wear "men's tall" size," he joked weakly.

 

Scully barely managed a smile in response; the manoeuvre to get the makeshift bandage around her had taken every ounce of her strength and control to avoid crying out.  She closed her eyes again for a moment or two, in the hope of regaining her equilibrium.  She was beginning to feel very chilled.

 

"Scully, you're going into shock," Mulder's voice broke into her silence.

 

She reluctantly opened her eyes again.  "I know."

 

"We need to keep you warm somehow."

 

"I'm open to suggestions."

 

Mulder hesitated, looking around.  The cave-in from the upper floors was making some creaking sounds that he didn't much like, and there was an occasional puff of dust or slippage of rubble.  It was a very real possibility that there could be another collapse.  He needed to move her, and over by the wall looked like the most viable spot.  Some big-ish concrete reinforced joists had landed there at an angle and were lodged in such a way that they were unlikely to collapse.  If he could get Scully under there, the joists might provide some protection if there was another collapse.

 

"I'm going to have to move you," he told her, grimacing, "and there's no way I can do it except to carry you."

 

Although it took less time, the procedure was worse than bandaging the wound had been.  When Mulder finally settled his partner in the alcove formed by the fallen joists, she had mercifully passed out.

 

When she came around again, Scully was warmer and for a moment fantasised that they'd been rescued and she was finally in hospital somewhere.  But the air was cool and still smelled like a dusty old basement.  She opened her eyes and found Mulder stretched out beside her, tucked up tightly against her uninjured side.  His body was radiating the heat she could feel.

 

Well, he was practical at least, but Scully couldn't help wondering if this would be something they would be embarrassed about later.  Their relationship didn't involve anything like full body touching.  In fact, of late it had involved a strict hands-off policy.

 

"Scully?"

 

"Hmm?"

 

"Good, you're awake."  Mulder sounded inordinately relieved. 

 

"Sorry.  I didn't mean to scare you," she murmured.

 

"Sorry I had to hurt you like that."

 

"It's okay.  You really think this place is going to cave in more?"

 

There was a slight pause.  "It already did."

 

Scully tried to move her head to see, but all she could really see was Mulder's chest.  "Is it bad?"

 

"Let's just say they're going to have a little more trouble digging us out of here."  Mulder sighed and turned his own head to survey the damage once more.  "The only good thing is that I think I heard someone up there just after the collapse.  I shouted, but I don't know if they heard me."

 

"That's something," Scully sighed.  "Mulder, don't let me pass out again.  I really should stay awake until the rescue team gets here."

 

"Okay."  He turned back to her, his eyes moving over her face worriedly.  "What do you want me to do?"

 

"Talk to me?"

 

"Okay …."  He thought frantically for a few moments, but his mind came up a blank.  "I don't know what to talk about.  The case?"

 

Scully remembered the discussion of the case they'd had the night before, which had lasted well into the early hours of the morning.  "I think we've covered that subject once or twice already," she observed wryly. 

 

He grinned in spite of himself.  Last night's 'discussion' had been stormy enough to provoke the people in the motel room adjacent to Scully's.   "Then what do you suggest?"

 

_I must be crazy to try this,_ Scully thought, but she would never get a better opportunity.  She had Mulder effectively confined to one space and if the conversation took a difficult turn, she had a range of excuses to bring it to an end.  _Coward, Dana …_   "How about the weird conversation I had with Skinner a while back?"

 

Mulder was puzzled.  "What weird conversation?"  It had to have been a fair while ago – they had been working for Assistant Director Kersch for more than a month.

 

"The one I didn't tell you about."

 

"When was this?"

 

"It was just after we got back from Antarctica, and you spent a week at Quantico, teaching rookie profilers."

 

Mulder remembered that week well; he'd had a party at Quantico, although the same could not be said for Tony Manchetti, the current SAC of the ISU, whose attempts to belittle Mulder had backfired rather spectacularly at every turn.  Of course, the opportunity to wind up Manchetti had been the main reason he'd agreed to take the class in the first place.  "So while I was wet-nursing baby agents, what were you and Skinner up to?"

 

"Nothing.  He just cornered me while I was having lunch one day and tried to discuss my life with me."

 

Mulder stared down at her, not sure what to make of this.  "Your life?" he repeated.

 

"Yeah – stuff like where did I see my career going and why did I stay with you."

 

"Skinner?"  Mulder found it hard to square their surly and tight-lipped former boss with what Scully was saying.  "Why would he ask you something like that?  Unless ...."  He frowned suspiciously.  "Unless he knew about our reassignment being mooted and wanted to offer you something better.  Scully, why didn't you take it?"

 

Scully rolled her eyes.  Trust Mulder to take what she'd said and twist it into entirely new shapes.  "Mulder, he didn't offer me anything."  Then she paused, and admitted to herself that this wasn't quite true.  "Except advice," she added grudgingly.

 

"Advice?  About what?"

 

"About my personal life."  Scully dropped that little nugget of information, and closed her eyes, waiting to see what her partner would make of it.

 

Mulder's voice was edged with sudden humour.  "Scully, is there something you want to tell me about you and Skinner?"

 

"Yeah.  We confessed our undying love for each other, headed for the nearest hotel, and made out like randy pythons for the rest of the afternoon.  We're getting married in the spring."

 

There was a startled pause – and he gave a helpless choke of laughter.  Scully opened her eyes again, grinning despite the red-hot pain in her side.  "Mulder, you idiot!" she told him affectionately.  Suddenly it didn't seem so difficult to broach the subject.  "He was talking about _you and me_."

 

"Before or after?" Mulder snickered.

 

She poked him gently in the middle.  "Be serious!

 

"Okay, okay, I'm serious." There was a pause, and she could tell he was looking for something to say.  "So what's Skinner's take on the situation?" he asked lightly, after a moment.

 

His tone was not encouraging, but Scully had gone too far to back away now.  "He thinks we're both fools," she said.  "'Bigger fools than he thought possible', was the exact phrasing, I think."

 

"Oh yeah?  Where does he think we're going wrong?"

 

"Mulder ...." Scully sighed.

 

"Sorry, Scully.  I just don't see him as a matchmaker somehow."  Actually, it made his skin crawl that Skinner of all people had had the nerve to hassle Scully on such a personal subject.  Although he'd probably figured that she was less likely to deck him for it.  "What the hell possessed him to start talking about something like that?"

 

"Oh Mulder, just forget I said anything."  Scully suddenly felt too tired and let down to pursue the conversation.  She should have known that trying to talk with him was pointless.  "What does it matter?"

 

Mulder gave her an irritable look.  "It obviously does matter, or you wouldn't have raised it."

 

"And now I'm dropping it again.  It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, after all - I know where I stand with you, Mulder."

 

"Do you?"

 

_Not that tone, please – I don't want to fight with him._   "Yes, I think so," she bit out, wishing she'd held her tongue.

 

"Well, that's very nice for you, Scully.  I wish I could say the same."

 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she snapped, and winced at a sudden jab from her side.

 

Mulder was angry enough not to notice.  "The last time I told you how I felt about you, Scully, you dismissed me like a child."

 

"When?" she demanded, astonished.

 

"In that hospital in Bermuda."

 

"Mulder, you were delirious ...."  Scully's voice trailed off as she got a good look at his face.  It was a mask of anger, hurt and frustration.  _Oh no – please don't tell me I screwed up that badly ...._   It was true, she had dismissed him like a child, because she'd truly believed he hadn't known what he was saying.  He'd been spouting nonsense about Nazis and time-warps from the moment she and the Gunmen had dragged him out of the water, and when he finally woke up properly in the hospital, she'd assumed what he said was simply more of the same.

 

"I guess delirium and a lack of inhibitions are easily mistaken for one another," he retorted dryly.  "Not that it was the first time."

 

"Not ...?" she faltered.

 

"I made a previous attempt at telling you how I felt, but I'll admit the circumstances – being strapped down in a psychiatric ward – weren't ideal, and I let it go.  But after Bermuda ...."  He turned his head away.

 

"Unfair, Mulder."

 

"Oh?"

 

That one curt syllable set a match to the anger and resentment Scully had been feeling for some time.  "I take it back," she said curtly.  "I _don't_ know where I stand with you.  You send out such mixed signals, that I'm amazed you have the nerve to expect me to know when you're being serious."

 

Mulder let out a hoarse sound that might have been a laugh under other circumstances.  " _I_ send out mixed signals?"

 

"You talk a good game, Mulder, especially when you want something, but when the chips are down, you'll forget the trusty partner of the past five years, and run off with the first person who offers to see things _your_ way."

 

"I was wondering when you'd get around to Diana."  His tone burned like sulphuric acid.  "Tell me, Scully: if you really feel that strongly about her involvement with me and the x-files, why do you bother to stick around?"

 

It was a knife-thrust; one more painful than the shard of shrapnel in her side.  It took Scully a second to catch her breath and get her emotions under control.  "That's pretty much what Skinner wanted to know," she replied levelly.  "He couldn't see why, when you offered me so many reasons to leave you, I bothered to stay."  She decided now was not the moment to also add that Skinner had asked if she was stupid enough to let Diana Fowley come between them.

 

He gave a bark of laughter.  "There you have it, Scully!  Everyone can see it but you – so why _are_ you still with me?"

 

The wound in her side chose that moment to give her a particularly painful jab, and Scully had to bite her lip not to cry out.  "You are such an asshole," she hissed bitterly, when the pain had passed.

 

"You're only just realising that?"  But Mulder's tone held more self-loathing than anything else.  "You'd better let me take a look at that bandage."

 

"It's fine," she gritted.

 

"It is not fine and Goddammit, woman, just this once will you not argue with me?"  Mulder pulled himself to his knees and leaned over her, his fingers probing the makeshift bandage very lightly.  Scully bit her lip again, trying not to flinch away from the discomfort his investigations caused.  In the half-light it was hard to see his face, but when he sat back again, there was a suspicious glistening in his eyes.  "You're bleeding again."  He straightened up as much as he could in the confined space, and began to pull his undershirt up.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"That bandage is soaked though.  We need more padding."  He wriggled out of the white t-shirt and wadded it up into a thick pad. 

 

"Mulder – "

 

"This is probably going to hurt," he interrupted, and leaned over her again.  "Can you lift up a little?"

 

Scully swallowed what she had been about to say, and concentrated on shifting herself to one side without yelling.  Mulder pressed the pad into place and helped her ease back again. 

 

"That won't do for long," he observed after moment of two of silence.  "We need to get out of here.  Where the hell are the rescue teams?"

 

"We're a long way down, Mulder.  I'm sure they're doing their best."  Her voice sounded feeble even to herself, and her partner gave her a sharp look.

 

"Don't go to sleep, Scully."  He laid down next to her again, tucking up against her side once more to keep her warm.  "Come on, talk to me."

 

"Not if we're going to fight."

 

"We're not going to fight," he said, and his voice softened with contrition.  "God knows, I don't want to fight with you."

 

"Then why do you do it?"  Scully was aware that her voice had taken on a pitiful note, but she hadn't the energy to do anything about it.  "Am I being unreasonable, wanting to talk to you about this like an adult?" 

 

"Scully, I don't think you've ever been unreasonable in the whole time I've known you.  You're the most reasonable person I've ever met."

 

There was a pause as she tried to hang onto her anger and hurt, but Scully's innate sense of what was fair wouldn't allow this statement to pass unchallenged.  "I don't know about that, Mulder," she observed ruefully.  "I can think of a couple of occasions when I haven't been particularly fair to you.  More than a couple, if I'm honest."

 

"I won't argue you with you, but nothing you've done, or imagine you've done, can possibly match how unfair I've been to you over the past five years."

 

"I don't want to play "my blame's bigger than your blame" either."

 

Mulder gave a rough chuckle.  "Okay."

 

"Skinner didn't just talk about me, you know," Scully said, after a moment of comfortable silence between them.  "He went on quite a bit about how we could both retrieve our careers and start moving up the ladder again."

 

"Yeah, right."  His amusement was obvious.  "All I have to do is be a good boy for the next six months, and they'll promote me to Director by popular acclaim."

 

"Not in this lifetime!  He seemed to think you could do quite well for yourself in Corporate Fraud, though.  If you ever chose to drop your interest in the x-files and play nice, that is."

 

Mulder was quiet for a moment, a little surprised.  Then he remembered who the current SAC of Corporate Fraud was, and a grin tugged at his lips.  "I don't know, Scully – I might do okay for myself in Serious Fraud, always supposing I survived the attentions of Chrissy Andreas.  Last time I worked with them, she damn near killed me before we closed the case."

 

"Huh?"  Scully's eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him.  "Okay, Mulder – just what have you got going with SAC Andreas?"

 

He shrugged, trying not to laugh at the memory.  "Nothing - _now_."

 

"Oh?  Care to elaborate on that?"

 

"Scully, what can I say?  I was a wet-behind-the-ears, rookie profiler.  She was an experienced agent with the Fraud Section, whose case happened to impinge on a serial rape case Patterson had assigned to me.  She was …."  Mulder hunted for an adequately descriptive word, and realised there probably wasn't one.  "Well, it was different," he finished lamely, and grinned again.  "Actually, it was kind of strenuous.  I swear to God I don't know how I ever got the profile written."

 

Scully rolled her eyes.  "Thanks, Mulder.  If I ever run into that unfortunate woman, I'm not going to be able to look her in the eye without the words "kind of strenuous" coming to mind."

 

"'Unfortunate woman' my ass!  She practically raped me.  Repeatedly."

 

"Right.  I'm sure you put up a terrific fight for your virtue."

 

"Well … not really."

 

His partner snorted her disgust.  "That's really more information than I needed!"

 

Mulder was unrepentant.  "You asked!"  She grunted irritably, and he smiled.  "Okay, so that's my possible future sorted out.  What did Skinner suggest you could do to kick-start your flagging career, Agent Scully?"

 

Scully frowned a little.  "He didn't specify anything, actually – just said that my credentials could take me wherever I wanted to go.  I guess that means Quantico, given that it would probably be a bit crowded for me in the Fraud Division." 

 

Mulder didn't need a brick to the back of his head to help him interpret the tone this was said in.  "Hey," he said gently, stroking her hair back off her face.  "Where Batman goes, so does Robin, remember?"

 

The corner of her mouth twitched.  "I don't quite see you as the Caped Crusader, Mulder.  Spiderman, maybe.  Besides, what's with this Batman and Robin stuff?  Since when have I been just a sidekick?"

 

She was satisfied to see his face suddenly go blank as he tried to back-pedal on the unintentional slip. 

 

But he recovered himself quickly.  "Scully! I merely meant that if you get sent back to Quantico, I'm prepared to swallow my pride and … and hold your scalpels for you."

 

"Rib-spreaders," she corrected innocently, and watched his face turn a little green in the half light.

 

"Buzz-saw," he countered quickly. 

 

Scully snorted.  "I don't think it would fit in Batman's utility-belt, Mulder."

 

"Or Robin's.  I get your point – being a sidekick is a risky business, especially when you wear your underpants on the outside.  Where the hell are the equal opportunities superheroes when you need them?" 

 

"Hercules and Xena?" Scully suggested.

 

He gave her a patient look.  "I don't think Gabrielle's wig would fit me."

 

"Buffy and Angel?"

 

"But who gets to wear the fangs and who gets to wear the skirt?"

 

"I wear the skirt.  You can stand in the shadows and look moody if you like, but Buffy has all the weapons."  Scully abruptly lost interest in the conversation.  She shifted a little and winced.  The hot lump in her side was throbbing painfully, and she wondered fretfully what kind of infections were brewing in her bloodstream.  Although if they were stuck here long enough, she might not have enough blood left to infect.  It was not a comfortable thought.  "Mulder … if anything should happen before they find us – "

 

"Cut it out, Scully."  His voice was sharp, tinged with anger and fear.  "Nothing's going to happen to you."

 

"All the same, Mulder – "

 

"Scully!"

 

"I wouldn't want you to think I didn't … reciprocate ...."  For once, Scully, the woman who was never at a loss for a long, scientific word, struggled to articulate what she was thinking.  "I mean ...."

 

"It's okay."  Mulder leaned over and dropped a kiss on her forehead.  "I think I get the picture."

 

She hesitated, wondering if he did.  "I'm sorry I brushed you off in Bermuda.  I really did think you were delirious, and all I could think was that you'd be so embarrassed when you finally came around – "

 

"It's okay."  Mulder placed a finger over her lips, ending her awkward explanations.  "Looking back, I probably sounded like a complete head-case – it's no wonder you didn't take me seriously."

 

She smiled faintly.  "No more than usual," she teased softly, and he smiled.  "It was your tone more than anything else, Mulder – if the tox screens hadn't come back negative, I'd have sworn you were high on something.  The Gunmen thought you were."

 

His smile became reminiscent as he thought back to the strange events on the Queen Anne.  Especially the ones just before he jumped overboard.  "Maybe I was."

 

Scully eyed him uncertainly.  "Mulder ... what did you mean when you said I was there?"

 

He gave her a startled look, and the smile widened.  "Scully, you _were_ there."  Without thinking, he touched his jaw.  "I had the bruise to prove it."  She gave him a look of mingled doubt and curiosity, and he breathed a laugh.  What the hell ....  "I kissed you and you slugged me.  You've got a hell of a right hook."

 

Scully still looked sceptical, but there was a smile lurking around her lips.  "Same old me, huh?"

 

"Yeah ... although I could stand to see you wearing that dress more often.  Red silk, very ... hot."

 

Now her brow rose mockingly.  "Red silk, Mulder?  With my hair?  I don't think so."

 

"Oh yeah – you have no idea."

 

"Hm."  She left it at that.  As interesting as the conversation was, the pain in her side was spreading, and she was beginning to feel dizzy and nauseated.  And tired … so tired.  But something was nagging at her, and she made an effort to say so.  "You kissed me, Mulder?"

 

Mulder's smile was very contented.  "Yeah."

 

"Darn …"  Scully's eyes started to slide shut despite her efforts to keep them open.  "I … missed it."

 

"When we get out of here, Scully, I'll kiss you all you want," he promised.  There was no reply, and when he looked down at her sharply, Scully's eyes were closed.  "Hey, Scully, no!  Come on, wake up – "  Mulder patted her cheek gently, and when that didn't work, he gave her a shake.  "Scully?  Scully!"

 

There was no response.  For a second, Mulder's heart seized up in his chest.  Then he fumbled for his partner's wrist, seeking her pulse.

 

Nothing.  He took a deep breath, reminding himself that it was notoriously difficult to get a pulse on a woman at the wrist, and felt at her throat.  For several tense seconds, he couldn't find anything ... then he felt it, weak and thready, but there.  The relief he felt was almost ludicrous in its intensity.

 

"Don't do this to me, Scully," he breathed shakily.  Her skin was waxy and pale, far too much like a corpse for Mulder's liking.  "Come on, partner, you've got to wake up."  He patted her face again, and when this failed to work, he reluctantly pinched her arm.  She moaned a little in response to this, stirring slightly, but her eyes didn't open.

 

At least she was responding, even if she wasn't totally conscious.  But that could change all too quickly.  Mulder dragged himself to his knees and bent over her body, his fingers gingerly probing the wadded t-shirt at her side.  His heart sank as they encountered a sticky crust on the cotton material.  She was bleeding still, and more heavily than before.  This was very bad news, but there was absolutely nothing he could do about it, except hope for –

 

Mulder stiffened, listening.  He could have sworn he'd heard movement somewhere in the wrecked building.  For several minutes, he stretched his hearing to the limit, but there was nothing else.

 

He sighed and lay back down next to his partner, wrapping his arms around her carefully.  It wasn't much, but he could still give her his body heat.

 

Moments later, a fine sifting of dust drifted down onto Mulder's shoulders, followed by a sudden clump of grit that made him splutter and swear.  The rubble shifted and grated, and suddenly a fine beam of light hit the wall above him.

 

"Hey – anyone down there?" a man's voice called, filtering down from the damaged floor above.

 

"Yeah, I – "  He was seized with a fit of coughing.  Mulder spat the dirt out of his mouth and tried again.  "We're over here!"

 

There was a pause, and he was overwhelmed with relief to hear two or three voices conferring indistinctly.  Then the first voice was back, more strongly. 

 

"How many of you?"

 

"Two!" he yelled.  "Hurry up, will you?  My partner's losing a lot of blood."

 

"We're working on it, buddy.  Hold on just a little longer."

 

Mulder wanted to scream at them, to tell them that Scully couldn't wait any longer.  But he managed to hold it back – they were doing their best.  Instead, he bent his head to his partner's hair. 

 

"Hold on in there, Scully.  Just a little longer."

 

Scully was drifting on the far edges of consciousness.   She heard voices talking around her, but it was too much effort to concentrate and make sense of what they were saying.  She was so tired ....  Then Mulder's voice intruded.

 

"....  She's got something in her side."

 

There was a murmur, and the voices retreated.  Then they were back again – Mulder, of course.  "You take her first."

 

Another, unknown voice: "If you come out first, Agent Mulder, we can get a paramedic in there to assess her condition."

 

"Like hell am I leaving her in here!  You get her out _now_.  Don't worry about me – "

 

There was a brief argument which she couldn't follow, then Scully was abruptly jolted into consciousness.  She was being moved and the movement had set the pain in her side alight.  She mumbled a protest, and felt a reassuring hand on her hair. 

 

"I'm here, Scully.  It's okay." 

 

Reassured, she slipped back into the darkness.

 

xXx

 

The first thing to hit Scully upon awakening was the smell of antiseptic.  That, combined with the tiny beeping noises from various monitors, was enough to tell her that she was in hospital, and it felt like the best news she'd had in days.  The pain in her side was all but unnoticeable, and she felt rested and comfortable.  All good things.

 

Slowly, she let her eyes drift open … and was mildly surprised when the first thing they fell upon was the unruly blonde hair of her sister-in-law.  Tara Scully was peering at her anxiously, an expression which turned to a pleased smile when she saw that her husband's sister was awake.

 

"Dana!  How do you feel?  Let me get the doctor – "

 

Scully opened her mouth to speak, found that her voice was a croak, and shook her head quickly.  Tara reached for the cup of ice chips and fed her a few.

 

"I really should get the doctor," she commented, but she knew Dana well enough not to argue with her, settling for pressing the button for the nurse instead.  "Maggie's flying out here tonight.  She couldn't get an earlier flight, so I've been sitting with you."

 

For a moment, Scully was puzzled about this.  Then she remembered; Counter Terrorism and the school in San Bernardino ….  "Where am I?"

 

"The Arrowhead Regional Medical Centre."  Tara gave her a few more ice chips, then put the cup back on the table and sat down again.  "Your partner called us."

 

"'Us'?" Scully asked with foreboding.

 

"Bill and me.  We _are_ the nearest to San Bernardino, Dana."  Tara paused, considering her sister-in-law's expression, and added, "Bill had to get back to the base, but he sent his love and said he'd come and see you as soon as he could."

 

Scully didn't find this reassuring.  She knew her brother.  "If Mulder phoned you ….  Where is he, Tara?"

 

"He'll be back later."  Again, Tara hesitated before speaking.  "I think he didn't want to hang around while Bill was here," she said finally, and there was a rueful twinkle in her eyes when she looked at her frowning sister-in-law.  "I tried to persuade him to stay, but he was adamant.  As soon as he knew you were okay, he left.  I think he had to get over to the Bureau office anyway … to be debriefed?  There was a senior agent here with him when we arrived."

 

Scully relaxed a little.  "Agent Miyabara?" she asked, thinking of the SAC in charge of the operation.

 

"An Asian woman, looked to be in her mid-forties?"

 

She nodded, remembering the deceptively fragile-looking agent.  In reality, SAC Kiyoko Miyabara was as tough as flint; she had to be, to work with an all-male, testosterone-laden team.  She and Mulder had been highly impressed by her when they arrived in San Bernardino.  If Miyabara was conducting the debriefing session herself, then Mulder should be okay.  "He shouldn't be able to get into any trouble with her around," she murmured wryly.

 

Tara looked amused.  "At least he's on two feet right now, Dana, which is more than I can say for you!  You looked terrible when we first got here, and you'd just come out of surgery.  Bill – "  She abruptly shut up, but Scully was able to finish the sentence for her.

 

"Bill tried to kill Mulder?" she suggested.

 

"No, but he said a few things he shouldn't."  Tara gave her sister-in-law a reluctant smile.  "And that senior agent told him where to get off, so he went home.  Your partner looked kind of surprised that anyone would stick up for him."

 

Scully wasn't surprised.  "Mulder doesn't have a very high opinion of himself."

 

The other woman gave her a thoughtful look, and was just opening her mouth to say something, when a doctor knocked on the door and came in.

 

Hearing the details of her injury, the surgery involved to fix it, and the aftercare she would need, took about twenty minutes, so Scully was a little surprised when, after the doctor had left, Tara picked up practically where they had left off.

 

"You know, Dana," she said determinedly, "that partner of yours is really devoted to you.  Not in the conventional sense, but in the way he looks out for you.  He wouldn't leave you, you know, even though he had some injuries of his own that started to give him trouble after they pulled you both out of the wreckage.  He only let them treat him when you were in surgery, and even then he stayed nearby.  He was still here, hours afterwards, when Bill and I arrived – and it took us a while to get here, I can tell you.  I don't think you realise how he feels about you."

 

For a moment, Scully was dumbfounded.  She had always believed that Tara – and, of late, even her mother – took the family line on Mulder, which was to say Bill's.  To hear her quiet sister-in-law taking such a radically opposite view to her husband was astonishing.  Then she got a grip on herself.

 

"Aside from having a low opinion of himself, Mulder also has an over-developed sense of guilt, Tara, which probably contributed heavily to him haunting my hospital room.  But – " she added, as the other woman opened her mouth to interrupt, her expression annoyed, "I am aware of – of how Mulder feels.  Well … I think I am.  We've talked about it, a little, and we need to talk about it more.  But I'm not blind, no matter how it might seem.  It's … complicated."

 

Tara rolled her eyes, but her brief flash of irritation dissipated.  "It's only as complicated as the two of you make it, Dana."

 

"You don't know how it is in the FBI," Scully sighed.  She didn't really want to have this conversation with Tara, least of all now.

 

"No, I don't," Tara agreed doggedly, "but I do know that you've trained him to make coffee the way you like it."

 

"Huh?"  Scully blinked at her, wondering where that had come from.

 

"He makes his coffee the Scully way – strong mocha, plenty of cream.  I found out totally by chance, and I don't think he even realised he was doing it until I told him."

 

"When was this?"  Now she was utterly bemused.

 

"Last Christmas," Tara told her, and saw Dana flinch slightly.  "I had quite a long conversation with him the morning he left," she added deliberately.  "In a roundabout way, he tried to give me the "it's complicated" line as well.  I didn't believe it then, and I don't believe it now.  The fact is, the pair of you are afraid to actually say to each other what's on your mind – afraid to discuss it like adults and make the decisions everyone has to make when a life-altering event occurs.  It's the same if you're an FBI agent, or a naval officer, or a girl working the checkout at Wal-Mart, but only you and this guy Mulder could turn it into something needing intervention by the United Nations."

 

Scully had to smile at that, although she was more than a little staggered by Tara's unexpected speech.  "Tara – Tara, enough!  Believe me when I say we really have talked about, if only a little.  And we're going to talk about it again as soon as he gets his ass back in here.  But you have to let us do this our own way; the timing has to be right.  And to coerce Mulder into doing anything is a tricky business, believe me!"

 

Tara studied her for a moment, then smiled a little mischievously.  "So, to paraphrase an old saying … you can lead a Mulder to bed, but you can't make him get it up, huh?"

 

"Tara!"  Scully was scandalised … and more than a little amused at the image this invoked.

 

"What can I say – I'm a Navy wife."

 

"I guess you are."  But Scully had to admit to herself that this was the first time that she'd really thought of her sister-in-law in those terms.  In fact, this was the first time she'd seen Tara as anything other than an appendage to Bill, and when the realisation hit her, she was instantly ashamed of herself.  "Does Bill know you talk like that?" she asked, trying for a jokey tone and only partially succeeding.

 

Tara's smile was a little wry.  "You've got to be kidding!  I keep that stuff strictly for my girlfriends."

 

The implication in the statement was obvious, and for the first time since she'd met Tara, Scully realised she felt a connection to, and understanding of, her brother's wife.  She stretched out a hand to her impulsively.  "Tara ....  I appreciate what you've said."

 

Tara squeezed the hand affectionately.  "It's only what Missy would have said to you if she was here," she replied softly.

 

"Yeah."  Scully blinked away the sudden tears before they had properly begun, and smiled waveringly at her.  "Although without the crystal waving ...."

 

And they both chuckled.

 

xXx

 

Mulder finally slunk back into the hospital long after visiting time was over.  How he got past the nurses was a mystery known only to himself; but when he stood irresolutely in the doorway to Scully's room, he was half minded to leave again without saying anything.  In the glass of the window opposite he could see that her eyes were closed and she was breathing deeply.  She needed her sleep ....

 

But while he might have been able to fool the nurses, he wasn't able to fool his partner – or at least, not as well as she was able to fool him.

 

"Did Miyabara let you live?"

 

He started at the quiet voice, and Scully smiled, her eyes still closed.

 

Mulder relaxed and the beginnings of a small grin twitched at the corners of his mouth.  "Scully, don't do that to me.  I thought you were asleep."

 

"Not likely."  Her eyes opened as he slowly approached the bed, and they studied him mercilessly.  "Mulder, I don't bite," she observed, puzzled at his hesitancy.

 

"No, but your brother might if I get too close to you," he smiled.

 

"Bill?  Why, is he still here?"  Scully's head lifted from the pillow as she looked around him towards the doorway.

 

"Nah – he left an hour ago.  I was watching from a hidden vantage point in the parking lot."

 

She viewed him with an expression of mingled bemusement and hilarity.  "You were what?"

 

"I hid out behind some strategically placed bushes," he explained, and watched with satisfaction as the laughter in her eyes fought to get out.  "Security were pretty good about it after I explained about Bill."

 

Scully shook her head, smiling.  "Mulder, you really are nuts.  Sit down, for crying out loud."  She watched as he hitched a hip onto the edge of the bed, and shook her head again.  "If Bill left an hour ago, why didn't you come in?  What were you doing out there?"

 

"Oh, you know," he said vaguely.  "Sittin' ... thinkin' ...."

 

"Hm ...."  She looked at him a little doubtfully.  "I'm not sure I like the sound of that.  So what did Agent Miyabara say to you?"

 

"She said I have more lives than even a cat should have, and that she should have expected the pair of us to get buried in a basement, with our track record."

 

Scully frowned, analysing the statement.  "Well, it could have been worse.  What else?"

 

"Petrov's dead," he told her, referring to the perp.  "They pulled him out of the rubble not three feet from where they found us."

 

"I'm not grieving for him.  Especially not after that bomb."

 

"Me neither."  Mulder gave her a pensive look.  "Everyone else got out okay, except Agent Chesterbrook.  He was pronounced dead at the scene."

 

"Damn," she muttered, and Mulder nodded a silent agreement. 

 

"Miyabara's pretty pissed off about it, naturally.  You were the only other serious injury, though, which is something.  Two others were walking wounded, and most of them got out with a few scratches, like me."

 

"A few scratches, Mulder?"  Scully gave him a sceptical look, remembering her sister-in-law's words, and he had the grace to flush slightly.

 

"Nothing serious, or they wouldn't have let me loose," he assured her, but Scully was still giving him a Doubting Thomas look.  "Okay, so I've got bruised ribs," he admitted finally, annoyed by her patient stare, "and a couple of cuts that needed stitches.  That's it.  Really."

 

"You've got bruised ribs, yet you sat out in the parking lot for over an hour.  Oh, Mulder ...." she sighed.  "They may not be hurting much now, but you are going to be in purgatory tomorrow."

 

He shrugged.  "Tomorrow's another day, Scarlet.  I'll live."

 

"You'll wish you were dead."

 

"Scully, it's just a bruise!  You were the one with half a metal window frame in your side."

 

"It didn't hit anything major," she soothed, but he wasn't having any.

 

"This time," he stated stubbornly.  "You were lucky."

 

So he was already on the road to a major guilt-trip; perversely, Scully felt annoyed.  She didn't want to spend the next couple of hours discussing Mulder's insecurities and talking him out of a depressive funk.  There were more interesting and important things they could be saying. 

 

"Mulder," she said acidly, "I don't know what Bill said to you before I woke up, but whatever it was, it was a crock of shit.  Now get over it.  I'm alive, you're alive, and I don't feel like agonising over the might-have-beens.  Personally, I feel like celebrating – and you can either celebrate with me, or go and mortify your flesh someplace else.  Got it?"

 

_Ouch._   She winced a little, inwardly.  That had been a little sharp, and she maybe hadn't meant to put it in quite those words.  But Scully realised that she meant them, nonetheless.

 

As for Mulder, he looked stunned.  For a second he blinked at her owlishly, clearly unsure what to say; then a surprised grin dawned on his face.  "What – you mean you wouldn't like me to just flog myself here, for your personal entertainment?"  The grin was just a little bit sly, and Scully almost laughed out loud.

 

"Depends on whether it involves a stick of wet celery or not," she countered, and he chuckled. 

 

"Scully, I do believe you've been rummaging through my video collection again," he teased.

 

"Maybe after all this time I've got a video collection of my own," she retorted, and wondered cheerfully what kind of painkillers her doctor had been slipping her when she wasn't looking.  She felt _really_ on form tonight.

 

On impulse she reached out and grabbed his hand, tugging it.  "Come here."

 

Mulder raised a brow, holding back.  "Why?"

 

Scully sighed and pulled the hand a little more sharply, ignoring a twinge of protest from her side.  "Come _here_ , Mulder."  She pulled him towards her until he was close enough that she could get an arm around his neck, and they were practically nose to nose, then she kissed him … just a brush of the lips, but a kiss none the less.  "Thank you for taking care of me when we were stuck in the  basement."

 

"You don't have to thank me for that, Scully," Mulder told her, more than a little distressed that she should feel the need to.

 

She smiled.  "I know, but I wanted to.  Besides … it gave me a good excuse to get you in an arm-lock."

 

"Oh?"

 

"Oh yeah."  And she kissed him again, this time more firmly.

 

Mulder was a little breathless when she released him.  "Scully, should we be doing this?" he asked unsteadily.

 

"What – you want to wait until I have another window-frame stuck in my side?"

 

"No!  I just … uh …."

 

"I seem to recall you telling me that when we got out of there, you'd kiss me all I wanted," she pointed out.

 

"You heard that?  I thought you were passed out …."  Mulder abruptly realised what he'd just said, and blushed.  "Not that I mean – I didn't – "

 

Scully chuckled.  "Mulder, I love it when you put your foot in your mouth sideways," she told him affectionately.  "All the same, you talk too much.  Just shut up and kiss me, if you're going to."

 

"On one condition," he retorted, rallying his defences in the face of her raised brow.  "You don't slug me again!"

 

 

Finis

 

 


End file.
